Cobra
by The.Dragon.Singer
Summary: White is the colour that dominates her life. But she's been Reaped, and been told by her only family to kill herself. Her fellow tribute hates her, and her District are secretly Careers. Welcome, Kaydan-Jai Zara, to your personal hell.
1. Dying

_I am dying. _

It's a fact that registers through a fog of grey and red.

I am dying.

Wet, sticky crimson pools around my fingers and my shirt is soaked.

I didn't expect to die like this.

I expected a long happy life.

I made it this far, haven't I? I should be going home.

But every heartbeat pumps more blood, more red stains the ground and another person will die.

I just wish it wasn't me.

However, I've been damned, cursed, thrown to the dogs. Almost literally.

Tributes are savage. They are beasts, monsters.

Yet, as a tribute, does this analogy include _me_?

Yes, I suppose it does. I am a tribute, after all.

I am a tribute. Damned to be turned into a savage killing beast. Blood stains my hands.

My body shakes as I lift my arm, my hand into my thinning vision.

It _is_ stained with blood. Whether it's mine, or someone else's, I don't know. My hand drops, pressing against a cheek that is probably pale.

I can hear laughing nearby.

Is it me?

I am dying. Why would I laugh?

Maybe it's _him._

_He _killed me. I think.

Am I dead? I'm still thinking. I can see the sky, the trees, clouds.

There's a time in every dying person's short period on their deathbed, where they remember their lives.

Am I supposed to do that?

Remember?

But, maybe I don't want to. Maybe, I'd like to die, just by myself, thinking of what could've have been, if the world wasn't as corrupted.

And maybe, just maybe, everything would have been alright.

And I wouldn't be here dying.

And nobody else would be dead.

And my hands weren't stained with blood.

And I was an innocent little girl again.

_Maybe, just maybe. _


	2. Reaped

The roof looked the same to her green eyes.

Shining white against the whiter light from the lamp overhead.

The quilt, and her pajamas, the floor; it was the same as it always was.

White.

Kaydan sighed, swinging her legs over the side of her bed and padding across the room to the white closet opposite the standard-issue bed.

_'Look, more white.' _

She slid from her pajamas, kicking them aside to dress in the standard-issue pants and standard-issue shirt provided by the mayor.

They were followed by standard-issue socks and shoes.

She didn't have a mirror, nor did Kaydan need one.

Her ebony-coloured hair was pulled into a braid, and tied off with a white ribbon.

Kaydan stepped out of her room, and nearly walked into her aunt, standing with a hand raised to knock.

"Kaydan, did you forget?"

Kaydan furrowed her brow, wracking her thoughts for what she could've missed.

"It's Reaping Day." The five-year-old beside her aunt smiled. Kaydan nodded, returning to her room to change.

Standard-issue dress, and standard-issue boots, and hair into rule-obligated ponytail.

'_Too many rules, and too much white._' Kaydan rolled her eyes as she re-exited her room.

"Good morning, Aunt Li and Charlie." Kaydan greeted the woman and her child.

"Good morning, Kaydan." Li nodded her head and continued down the hall with the two lines of

people progressing towards the large Reaping hall.

Not one person said a word as they walked, all focused on staying two steps behind the person in front of them.

Kaydan rolled her eyes again, walking to close to her aunt. Li sent a glare over her shoulder.

Kaydan sighed.

'_Reaping Day. How fun._' She thought, twisting her hands in her dress. '_You won't get picked, Kaydan. Not like your parents. You'll be okay.'_

Her thoughts turned to the Latin tattooed on her hip.

_'__Aut vincere aut mori; __To conquer or to die. That is the rule all people live by in Panem._'

She gave her wrist and finger to the Peacekeeper wordlessly and took her designated spot on the bench for the sixteen year old girls.

The room falls quieter than it was before, and District Thirteen's escort cross the hovering glass platform.

"Welcome to the One Hundredth Annual Reaping of District Thirteen!" His overly white teeth flash against his green lips. "And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

Kaydan twisted her dress again, eyes nervously darting around.

The girl next to her places her hands against Kaydan's, stopping the nervous movement of her hands without looking and then returns them to her own lap.

"Without further delay," He reaches into the bowls beside him, and selects two slips of paper. "Our tributes."

Things are done quickly in District Thirteen.

"Our male tribute," He pauses, his abnormally bright green eyes scanning over the crowd. "Alexei Morozov."

The boy stands, hands brushing against his pants as he walks. His hair is brown, in the standard just-above-the-ears cut. His eyes are blue.

"And our girl," The escort positions Alexei next to him. "Kaydan Zara."

She stands, a fog in her green eyes and a white noise in her ears, to scale the floating glass staircase.

The escort finishes his speech and leads the two away.

_'I was wrong. I did get Reaped.'_

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Thanks goes to Kurohane Ookami, who helped with the escort. **

**He hasn't been fully introduced yet, but we'll get there.**


End file.
